“We need to talk,” he says, then mumbles something under his breath when Cali comes out of his bedroom holding a piece of black material in her hand while still wearing his jersey, but also wearing a pair of jeans and heels.

“I hope you don’t mind that I keep this,” she giggles, holding the golden top away from her body.

“Actually...”

“He has like a million, of course he doesn’t mind,” I cut him off before he can respond.

She actually smiles at me like we’re friends. “Cool.” She skips to where he is and grabs his hand. “Walk me out.”

“Sure.” He mumbles then looks at me. “Be right back.”

“I’ll be here.”

“Bye.” Cali says to me, and I wiggle my fingers at her, then go to the kitchen and grab Jeb’s dog food and start to pour some of it into a large zip lock bag to take with me.

“You know that was my favorite jersey,” he says when he steps back into the apartment a few minutes later.

I shrug one shoulder. “Since you will probably hurt her feelings in just a few days when you don’t call or text her, consider it a pre-fuck-up apology gift.”

“She’s a puck bunny, Willow, she knows the score.”

“She’s a woman with feelings, Brodie, and you don’t know what she knows.” I shake my head.

“I know she was using me the same way I was using her.”

“Ew.” My nose scrunches. “Don’t say that; it makes you sound like a douche.” I grab a new bag of Jeb’s treats from his cupboard then look over at Brodie when he doesn’t say anything, but I feel the energy in the kitchen seem to shift, become heavier. “What?” I ask when I find him looking at me funny.

“You don’t care.”

“What?”

“You don’t fucking care,” he shouts while tossing his arms in the air, a move that causes Jeb to bark.

“Care about what?”

“Me, that I’m fucking other women,” he yells, and I blink, completely stunned by his outburst. “It doesn’t fucking matter to you at all.”

“Wait.” I hold up my hands while shaking my head. “Are you—have you been doing this whole having-women-over-every-time-I-show-up as a way to try and make me jealous or something?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he just stares, and I know I’m right.

“Oh my god.” I whisper.

“It didn’t work.”

“Of course it didn’t.” I shout then laugh without humor.

“This isn’t fucking funny, Willow.”

“It’s actually hilarious, Brodie.” I rub my hands down my face. “Your way of trying to win me back, or whatever it is you think you’re doing, is to shove women in my face.” I look around wishing there was something close by to throw at his stupid, fat head. “We broke up because I couldn’t handle the constant distance, lack of communication, and the amount of women always hanging around. I told you that.” And I did, I told him early on that his constant traveling and then not even calling or texting while he was away was an issue, and he did nothing to change it, so I protected myself by ending things because I didn’t want to end up hurt if I did let him completely in.